Bookshelves
by freelancejouster
Summary: Students return to Hogwarts after the war, either to learn or help rebuild.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the first chapter to a fic that I've been thinking about for a long while. I hope you like the eventual pairing as much as I do.**

**Enjoy! Please review :)**

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The war changed everything for a lot of people. Mostly having to do with how they regarded one another and the unity felt between wizards from all different walks of lives. In the year of rebuilding and learning that occurred after the war nearly obliterated Hogwarts, Headmistress McGonagall made a point encouraging school and not house unity. And it was not only that she was encouraging, it was that she was adamant. On the occasion, which started often and then dwindled quite considerably, she found students hiding out during the bi-weekly, school-wide "activities", she had _those_ students preform rather unsavory punishments, all together, of course, which usually included cleaning, organizing, and Peeves watching over them.

Slytherin walked in arm with Hufflepuff who had a hand in the pocket of Gryffindor who was hand in hand with Ravenclaw. Metaphorically, of course. Though, Hermione was certain that she had seen that exact arrangement parading down the hallway one day.

Hermione had returned to Hogwarts on the option that McGonagall had provided for the student's whose last year had been obscured by the war. Hermione had jumped at the chance, literally, and had excitedly asked Harry and Ron to join her, who looked at her blankly for a moment before breaking down into laughter.

"Hermione!" Ron explained, "it was never as if we actually _liked_ school was it? You were good at it, I copied off of you, and Harry was good at defensive things because everyone was always trying to kill him." Harry laughed, but looked a little haunted, as he had since he came back from the dead in the middle of the forest.

"Well I don't particularly want to go to school without the two of you," she said, taken aback, having never thought of the possibility of people not enjoying school. "What am I going to do?" she asked, picking at a hangnail and focusing specifically on that.

"I don't know," retorted Ron, "read?"

Ever since the kiss, they'd been even more heated towards each other. Harry hoped that they were making up in private, but he knew that both of them were too pig-headed to ask the other how they felt. He would just have to wait for them to bubble over again. Which he hoped he wouldn't have to be present for.

To calm Hermione down, he said, "I'm sure we'll be near the school at the very least, all the reconstruction and that."

This seemed to ease her tensions a little-her hair deflated a bit-and Harry took the opportunity to say, "Yeah, I've talked to Kingsley and a few other Aurors and they need all the help they can get. Apparently entire wings of the school are mostly inaccessible without the use of brooms."

"Actually," Hermione brightened a bit as she came to realize that she might not be alone at the school after all, "you guys would excel at that."

"Excel?" Ron scoffed, "we'll do better than that, we'll own it. Actually, maybe I'll go write a letter to Kingsley right now, see if we can get to work on that."

And Ron stomped out of the room, scooping up a self-inking quill in the process and getting large blobs of ink all over his long nose.

As he left, Hermione turned to Harry and asked, "He does know that to excel is basically to own it."

Harry gave a conceding nod and then said, "You could actually tell him that you like him, you know."

Hermione looked vaguely in the direction that Ron had went and said, "I doubt that would ever work. Not with him. He doesn't...we're not...compatible."

"You're not?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised, "You seemed pretty compatible before."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, fists banging on the table, "I cared for him for years and he didn't even notice me, sucking at that poor girl's face in front of me! All we ever do is fight, Harry. That's all we ever do!" A cup teetered off the edge and with a flick of Hermione's wand it flew into the sink erratically and shattered there. She burst into tears and crumpled to the floor, "I can't! I can't! I can't do this. I can't be with him if all we're going to do is fight! I need...I need...I need...I don't know what I need, but I don't need him! Harry, I can't...I can't need him."

"I think you're scared."

And Hermione looked Harry in the eye, took a deep breath, and said in a water-logged voice, "Maybe you're right, but maybe I want someone who doesn't make me scared all the time. I'm going to go pack, I'll see you back at Hogwarts, Harry."

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She had packed up everything she needed, gone through Diagon Alley, and arrived at the school in less over a day. The sun was setting when she got there, filtering red over the towers in the distance. Just in front of her, there was a line of early-arrived students and teachers, including Neville and Professor Trelawney, the pair of whom seemed to be discussing something rather fervently.

"Hello," Hermione said as she approached them, but neither seemed to hear her.

"I do see that you would have done quite well to follow its advice, child," rasped Trelawney in her croaky voice.

Neville tried to look bored, though small amounts of nervousness crept through.

"Neville, are you here to complete your last year?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, Professor Sprout said that I should hang around the school for a couple more years if I'm to replace her anytime soon," Neville looked eager, but glanced over to Trelawney in nervousness again. The Divination teacher was staring at a stain on her coat which sort of looked like a pear, if one squinted a bit.

As Trelawney wandered towards the front of the line, Hermione edged closer to Neville, whispering, "What did she say to you? You look so unnerved."

Neville tossed a scrap of paper towards her, saying, "I made the mistake of telling Trelawney that my fortune reminded me of her." Hermione smoothed out the paper and read "Perhaps fate has dire things in store for you, tread lightly this week". Hermione snorted and Neville asked, "So I shouldn't put much faith in it?"

Hermione shook her head kindly, "Fortunes are made in factories, mass produced and randomly selected. They're never accurate, just for laughs. I promise."

Neville visibly relaxed and she gave him a reassuring smile which faded abruptly when she saw who was approaching them from the gate. His blond hair tousled and walking with a slight limp, Draco Malfoy looked mildly amused as usual, but he also looked a tad uncertain, an expression Hermione wasn't sure she had ever seen on his face before. She had heard that he and his mother moved into a slightly less spacious mansion-though it was still extravagant, she was sure-and that the two of them were doing quite well, though having to adjust, living without his father.

Honestly, Hermione wished him well. Having seen how vulnerable he was in the battle, she fell a small pang of pity whenever she saw him now, accompanied by the usual jealousy, annoyance, and mostly indifference. Besides when he outright taunted her, Hermione had never really hated Malfoy, not the way Ron and Harry had.

"Granger," said Malfoy with a nod of his head.

"Malfoy," nodded Hermione back.

"Had a...good summer?" asked Malfoy with a shadow of his old smirk.

"Not particularily, no," she replied with a wane smile. Malfoy just nodded and fiddled with his pockets. Hermione turned to the front of the line and saw that it was her turn to approach the figure at the front of the line. Upon getting closer, she saw it was Professor McGonagall, which made sense as she had been Deputy Headmistress before.

The old professor smiled upon seeing Hermione and swept her up in a hug before pulling back and straightening her robes, "I'd been wondering when I'd be seeing you. I didn't think you could pass up an opportunity for learning."

"I didn't think I could either," smiled Hermione up at McGonagall, "So how is this going to work? Do we just go about as if we're back in school?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head and smiled back at Hermione, "All of you eighth years will sit in on whichever classes you would like, fifth year and up, of course, have full use of the library and with a little prompting can use most of the facilities that the school has to offer, even those primarily for staff use. It will work as more of a university or free-study program. All I expect is for you to complete some form of paper or scroll to hand into me weekly and that you help with the rebuilding effort at least an hour a day during the week, and at least five over the weekend. Assign yourself homework and reading, or don't. Study things that will be useful to you, or don't. It's all up to you, Miss Granger. Or is it Mrs. Weasley now?"

Hermione's excitement, which had been growing the entire conversation, plummeted and she strode away from McGonagall with a curt, "No."

She thought she heard a chuckle behind her, but didn't dare look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the next chapter, FINALLY, after about a three month leave from this site due to Nanowrimo and then finals. I finally have some time again. Expect the next chapter much quicker than the last. Probably**

**I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I just love them a lot okay.**

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Hermione climbed the hill behind Professor McGonagall and let out a gasp when she saw the castle in all of its glory, much as she had the very first time she saw it. Then, she had marveled at Hogwarts' majesty, the place she had first dreamed of, then read about as if starved for information, then finally seen as a tiny first year, cold and wet in the boats that had ushered her across the lake. Now, she marveled at the destruction that had befallen her beloved home.

Entire sections of the castle had fallen across others; hundreds of yards from the school, large chunks of stone were sunken into the ground as if they'd been there for eons. A thick layer of pulverized stone and ash covered everything Hermione's eyes met. It still looked like a fresh battle ground; Hermione could almost hear the anguish and see the magic flying. Carefully, she approached, thankful that all traces of those lost had been wiped from the earth, save thin, glowing spires that seemed to stretch into the heavens placed around the grounds and within the castle.

Hermione took a deep breath and wiped her eyes with the backs of her shaking hands. Just as she was about to start heading down the hill she heard a gasp of breath beside her. She turned to see Malfoy looking, wordlessly at the castle. Hermione felt as though she should say something, but not having said more than a handful of words to each other in their lives, she didn't know where to start. Instead, she remained focused on his eyes which so often seemed haughty and cold. They had filled with emotion; he looked as though his heart was breaking.

Not knowing what else to do, she touched his hand gently, hoping to startle him from his state or at least elicit a reaction from him. Instead, the worst happened and Hermione saw a single solitary tear drip from Draco Malfoy's eyes. He fell to his knees and Hermione, uncomfortable with the situation, looked around for help. They appeared to be alone on the hillside. She looked upon the man who had once been a small, cruel boy and touched his shoulder gently. He seemed to be oblivious to her touch, neither recoiling or pressing into her hand. She was not sure if it was a good thing or a bad, but she knew that she would have rather had _some_ sort of reaction than nothing.

"Malfoy?" she spoke his name softly, just above a whisper. The wind took it and carried it away from the pair of them. Hermione was convinced that he had not heard her at all and was just about to open her mouth again to speak when he drew himself away from her, cussing and hurling insults. He looked a bit like Crookshanks when he realized you were watching him do something wrong, Malfoy spluttered and spat, pulling his lithe body up and away from her own.

He scowled at her in a way that did not quite reach his eyes and strutted down the hillside. Hermione stood watching, shaking her head confused and ever so slightly amused by his behavior. The insults did not hurt her in the slightest if she thought about Malfoy as Crookshanks, as she continued to do. She chuckled to herself and headed down the hill as well.

She was walking somewhat aimlessly and as she neared the bottom of the hill she saw a spire a few paces to her right. She veered in that direction and peered at the strange bit of magic exhibited there that she was not familiar with. It existed as a beam of light firmly rooted in the ground and arching into the heavens as far as Hermione could see. It seemed as though it was without purpose until she saw the minuscule inscription at its base that read: Here died Imogene Morgan who fell in the Battle of Hogwarts. October 14, 1982 - May 2, 1998.

A shiver went down Hermione's spine and she glanced across the grounds, newly appreciating all of the spires strew across the ground. She knew that whomever had decided on this method of memorializing those who died in the battle meant well, but instead of comforted or whatever it was that she was supposed to be feeling, Hermione found the whole thing eerie. It was as if her haven had been turned into a graveyard.

With this grim thought in her mind she continued on her walk towards the castle. As she neared it, she found herself circumnavigating and picking her way through and around and over rubble and other debris. By the time she reached an actual section of the castle, she was covered in dust and grime from the wreckage and starting to become overwhelmed. She sat upon the crumbling stone steps leading up to the great front doors and put her head in her hands. She sat like that for a long moment, trying to keep from spilling tears and whispering to herself repeatedly to just stop it.

As she composed herself, she heard the crunch of shoe upon rubble and a low voice reciting incantations. It sounded as if something large was being moved. Hermione looked up slowly from her huddled position on the steps and saw a wizard who looked somewhat familiar placing parts of the castle back where they belonged with leisurely flicks of his wand. For some reason, she was convinced he was an Auror. Perhaps she had seen him at the battle or when she, Harry, and Ron had disguised themselves and infiltrated the Ministry. Perhaps he had not been at the battle at all and was trying to make it up now. The man did not look particularly old, but as Hermione thought of Imogene's spire she realized that had very little to do with valor or wisdom in this day and age. He was somewhat lanky with dark brown hair hung in a low ponytail down his back. He wore very casual clothing but still looked as if he had made an effort to match, so perhaps he was used to being in the muggle world.

"Hello?" she called. He glanced at her and nodded in recognition as he finished placing a fragment of stone into the wall with a flash of soft yellow sparks. The stones glowed softly and then it was once again part of the wall.

"Good day Miss Granger," he called, dusting off his hands, stowing his wand in a pocket, and striding carefully towards her over and through the debris.

She found it quite odd that he knew her name and mentioned as such.

"Well, you're famous, aren't you?" he asked. "You and Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, you were the heads of the resistance that saved us."

"Part of it, certainly," she responded, still confused, "But surely people aren't claiming that we headed it. If anything, Harry was some kind of...some kind of figurehead more than anything really."

He shook his head, not believing that she didn't know, "Your faces, all of your faces were everywhere in the safe houses during last year. If I saw your face or either of the boys, men really now, aren't they? If I saw your faces when I arrived somewhere, I knew it wouldn't be a trap. I knew that the place was truly safe, at least for the time being. You were sort of a, sort of ray of sunshine or hope really. Somewhat like the spires are, now, I think?"

"They're to be comforting?" burst out Hermione, more thrown off by that comment than that her face had been a figurehead or symbol of hope during the dark year that had occurred previously. "They memorialize death! Killing! I think they're disgusting." The last word was spat at the man with a venom. "I don't know who would think that something like that is comforting enough to design and implement it." She added, still feeling the need to stress how little she cared for it.

"My name is Ian Sullivan I designed it," he said, suddenly much colder towards her. "It was agreed by many of the people who were here during the summer months that this memorial would be the best version of a sort of tribute to those who perished in this unfortunate battle and in the entire war."

"I apologize for insulting your creation, Ian," said Hermione curtly, "However poor in taste it may be." She turned on her heel and strode up the crumbling steps, opening the doors to the castle with as much force as she could muster, almost running straight into poor Argus Filch who was sweeping that area of the castle in preparation for the students' arrival in a few days.

"Eh?" said Filch, stumbling slightly forward before turning to look quizzically at the girl. "Er, mangy kids. I suppose you would dirty the place up some more if you could get away with it, eh? Get out of here," he grumbled.

Hermione muttered apologies and picked her way over the pile of rubble he had swept together. She jogged up the steps to try and get away from all the unfriendliness. She swore she heard a growingly familiar chuckle coming from the direction of the dungeons, but she wanted so desperately to see Gryffindor tower as whole and as friendly as she remembered it that she did not turn around to see Draco Malfoy watching her with a strange expression on his clever face.

She followed the pathway expertly, treading where she had every year for the last half dozen years of her life. The road was familiar and welcoming in a strange sort of way. As she got closer to her beloved tower, she started to fret over not knowing the password, but upon reaching the portrait of the Pink Lady, the woman lit up and exclaimed, "Oh, Hermione Granger, I thought I might see you again this year! How lovely. Come on in!" The frame swung open soundlessly to reveal the common room where she had sat so many times before. Already, a fire was crackling merrily in the hearth while Neville flicked bits of paper into it.

He glanced up to see Hermione in the doorway and she beamed for the first time since speaking with McGonagall, she felt as if she had made the right decision. She clutched her books to her chest and stepped into the room, newly confident and excited for the adventure unfolding before her.


	3. Chapter 3

**This one kind of ran away from me once I really started working on it. I hope you like it as much as I do!**

**As before, I own none of the characters of the Potterverse. Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

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Hermione's favorite way to wake up when she was a child was slowly and unrushed. Those weekend days before school when she could wake up an hour later than usual to the gentle sounds of birdsong and the tantalizing smells of her mother creating a breakfast far too big for their small family. The whole leisurely feeling of the event was what made it special. She decided when and how she woke up, and perhaps most importantly how long it took her. Whether she lay in bed for an hour after waking or sprang forth the second her eyes opened was entirely her decision, which Hermione absolutely loved. Of course, those days were long behind her. She was survivor of the war and her family was in Australia, somewhere, entirely unaware of her existence.

Her first day back at Hogwarts after the battle, Hermione was awoken by Ron and Harry bursting through the door to her dorm and crying loudly, "Hermione!" They stomped around and made such a ruckus that she woke up immediately and was, because of that, incredibly grouchy.

"I thought boys couldn't come up the girls' staircase," she said, sighing and extracting herself from her covers a bit to sit up, crossing her legs.

"Ginny showed me how to disable it," Harry said casually. Hermione's interest was peaked, but Harry waved her off before she could even open her mouth. He pulled a pair of brooms from behind the doorway and chuckled, saying, "It's not so much outsmarting the magic, but more like avoiding the problem. Though, it is a little tricky flying up the staircase."

She couldn't suppress a small laugh of surprise, "That's clever, Harry."

He shrugged, "Ginny thought of it, not me."

Hermione nodded. It did sound something more like what Ginny would think of, Hermione often wondered whether Ginny should have been put into Ravenclaw or even Slytherin for her clever, cunning nature.

"What? You don't think Harry or I could have thought it up ourselves?" Ron said, obviously still heated from yesterday.

Hermione was bored of fighting with him and instead ignored him all together, "What are you two doing here so early? I figured it would be a week or more until you got here."

"We wrote Kingsley," explained Harry. "He set up a meeting which we went to last night and we talked about a rebuliding effort with this guy who graduated with Tonks, I think. He's the one who made those incredible spire things as tribute. I forget his name..."

"Ian Sullivan," filled in Hermione, looking disgusted.

"That's it! How is it you know everything?" asked Ron, suddenly curious.

"I spoke to him yesterday, when I arrived," she replied. "I'm quite good at remembering names, _Ronald_."

He wrinkled his nose up, but said nothing else to her, leaning against the closest bed frame to pretend he wasn't bothered.

"What'd he talk to you about?" asked Harry.

"How we'd been figureheads of the war last year, 'signs of hope' and silly things like that. And his awful sculptures," said Hermione, setting her chin into her palm.

"You don't like the spires?" asked Harry, glancing out the window where several were visible. Their presence had kept Hermione awake most of the night. "I think they're kind of nice. Comforting. A reminder that even though what happened was terrible and brutal, that what we did was right and that we won. Huh," he said thinking, then shook his head. "Well, he talked to us about the same things, really. How we would be most useful repairing the school early so that people could keep looking up to us. He spoke of adding you to the mix, but then said it was probably better for the pair of us to fix things and for you to do work elsewhere."

"Probably because he doesn't much like me now," said Hermione, resting her chin in her palm.

"Did you insult the spires to his face?" asked Harry, amusement creeping onto his face.

Hermione considered then said, "Well, not on purpose. But yes, yes I did."

Harry shook his head and chuckled before asking, "Would you want to continue to be a figurehead with us?"

"Not in the slightest," said Hermione. "I find it strange."

"That's kinda what I figured," laughed Harry, leaning to kiss her forehead. She smiled at him wanly. "I'll let you go back to sleep then," he said.

Hermione nodded and as they walked out the door, she called, "It's good seeing you, Harry."

He smiled and nodded and the boys left. Hermione smiled back and thought that it might not be such a horrible day after all. Her optimism was quickly wiped from her mind as she heard Ron mumble, "Good, now I won't have to deal with her nonsense."

Frowning and now fully awake, Hermione stomped out of bed and pulled a sweater over her head, crossing to glance out the window. Curiously, she saw Draco Malfoy standing among the spires, staring at them as if entranced. He glanced up, having seen a movement from the castle and upon seeing Hermione, nodded ever so slightly before looking back at whatever had his attention. She crinkled up her nose but couldn't help being curious about the nod.

She continued getting ready and then walked into the Gryffindor common room as she pulled her hair into a practical pony tail. It was completely empty. She walked about the room, remembering times that she'd spent curled up with a book in front of the fire or chatting with Ginny by the window or laughing with Ron and Harry. She paused before the fire and prodded it with her wand before sinking down into her favorite chair before the fire now roaring to life.

Hermione hadn't been sitting down for five minutes before she heard feet upon the boys' staircase and saw Neville step from it.

"Hi, Hermione!" he called as he spotted her. His hair was untidy and his face creased with pillow marks, but Hermione thought he seemed to have grown into the attributes that had made him so awkward looking in previous years such as his too big ears and feet. As she had, perhaps, she thought, thinking of her teeth.

"Good morning, Neville," she called back as he approached.

He looked around the room a bit as he sat down in the chair next to her. "Are there no other Gryffindors back yet?" he asked.

"Ron and Harry are about somewhere, being figureheads of the revolution still. You'd think it would get a bit old by now," she said, trying to keep her voice from betraying how annoyed she was.

"You mentioned something about that last night, right? That sculpture guy, Sullivan. Something about 'The face that brought hope' and all of that, right?" Neville asked and waited for Hermione to nod before continuing, "Absolute idiocy. I'll feed him to a Devil's snare if you'd like."

Hermione shook her head, but smiled. Then remembered, "Is there somewhere we're to be?" she asked Neville. "I would have asked McGonagall but she touched on a sensitive subject and well, I just had to get out of there."

Neville glanced at his watch, "Oh, yeah, actually, we're supposed to meet her in her office in about twenty minutes. We should probably get going."

Hermione had been in the Headmistress's office a handful of times throughout the years and was positive that it would not take more than ten minutes to get there. However, she had forgotten the demolished state of the castle. Having found more than one intended staircase missing pieces large enough to hold a Hippogryph, Neville and Hermione had had to circumnavigate several floors below what they had intended. Thirty minutes after the portrait of the Pink Lady fell closed behind them, Hermione and Neville stumbled upon the door they had set out for.

Before them was the gargoyle that Hermione had associated with Dumbledore for what seemed like her entire life. She took a deep breath before realizing that she didn't know the password.

"Do you know the password, Neville?" asked Hermione, turning towards him.

He nodded and touched first the right eye and then the nose of the gargoyle. It swung forth to reveal a staircase that was slowly rotating upwards. Neville smiled at Hermione's confused expression and said simply, "McGonagall's not as fond of sweets as Dumbledore was."

They were carried to the top and Hermione's hand rapped upon the door which opened expectantly the moment it was touched.

"You're late," called Professor McGonagall as they entered the spacious room. It looked very different than Hermione remembered it from when Dumbledore was Headmaster. He had always had strange, spindly tables weighed down with curious contraptions. The only thing that seemed the same was the plethora of books lining the walls, the sorting hat sitting on a high shelf, and the armchairs which dotted the room.

"We didn't expect the amount of damage still within the castle," replied Hermione, embarrassed. She sank into the armchair closest to her.

"Oh, that's quite alright," said the Headmistress. "You're actually the first two to arrive."

"There are more of us?" asked Neville. "But there wasn't anyone else in Gryffindor tower?"

"Surely you don't think Gryffindors were going to be the only ones to come back, Mister Longbottom," said Professor McGonagall. "Afterall, I am not just head of your house any longer."

As she finished speaking, a trio of Ravenclaws wandered through the door to her office, followed by the Gryffindor Patil sister (the other being part of the Ravenclaws). They exchanged pleasantries with Professor McGonagall and expressed embarrassment at their lateness. Before they had finished speaking, a pair of Hufflepuffs entered the office, flustered and panting, trailed by the ever-composed Draco Malfoy.

"What's _he_ doing here?" hissed Terry Boot, glaring at Draco Malfoy. The blonde seemed to take no notice and merely smirked at Hermione who looked away to suppress a smile.

"Now that we're all here," said Professor McGonagall, quieting the now crowded room with her voice. She stood on a small platform in the center of the room and towered over the students, though all of them were of age. "I would like to thank the nine of you for participating in the extended learning program we've offered this year which caters to those students whose final year of schooling was so disrupted by the war and the terror that enveloped both the magical and muggle worlds last year. This is a very special program which has never been offered before and will hopefully need never be offered again. You nine students will have the opportunity to come and go as you please practically everywhere on the school and grounds, with very few exceptions or more likely, warnings, and very minimal criteria.

"The criteria are simple. To maintain your participation in this program you will have to complete at least eighteen inches of scroll and submit it to me weekly on something you have learned or experienced in the program. The library and most every other part of the castle are yours to do what you wish with, even those usually reserved for staff and Prefects. You are encouraged to sit in on classes, but are required to state a reason other than boredom or curiosity. I would like to mention that there are not many classes under OWL level in which you could sit where you would have much reason other than a future in teaching. In addition to this, we require that you complete ten hours of reconstruction weekly. It is up to you if you would like to complete one or two hours a day or pile it all into a day, however, the spells are quite intensive and I would advise against spending more than five hours at a time immersed in that work.

"The exceptions are more for safety than anything. I would like to advise the lot of you against entering the Forbidden Forest unless accompanied by Hagrid. Unlike previous years, however, you are not expressedly forbidden from visiting and there will be no punishment if you are found to have visited there if you have academic reason or proof. If you are without proof or reason, you will be given additional hours of reconstruction work. A more strict ban is on entering faculty's offices without their expressed permission, which will demote you back to the level of students.

"The last thing I need to mention is that you will no longer be staying in your respective houses as there is not room for extra students," continued Professor McGonagall as a round of protest rose from the students. "You will be staying in a wing of a dozen rooms off the edge of the library which includes a bedroom for each of you, a pair of bathrooms, and a common room area."

"I have to stay in a room next to _him_?" asked Susan Bones, glancing apprehensively at Malfoy who now looked at the ground._  
_

"Yes," stated McGonagall soundly. "Perhaps you'll all learn a bit of tolerance."


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter's finally done! I hope you like it as much as I'm starting to. As before, I own no part of the Potterverse, I just love it ok. Read, review, and enjoy!**

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At the end of the meeting, Professor McGonagall waved her wand and with a spell Hermione had never seen, a gold, shining orb floated from the end of her wand and bobbed at about her chest height.

"What is that, Professor?" asked Padma Patil, curiously.

"Oh, just a little something I've been working on," simpered the Headmistress, obviously pleased with herself. She addressed the orb, "Please lead this group of students to the housing facility connected to the library."

The curious little orb bobbed once in a kind of nod, and started weaving its way through the students to the door. The Terry Boot looked at Professor McGonagall disbelieving, but she didn't give him time to complain and spoke, "Well, what are you waiting for?" The group of students, all feeling sheepish, turned en masse and followed the orb.

"Well that's a clever bit of magic," remarked Hermione to Neville quietly as they trailed the group.

"How do you think she does it?" he asked, impressed, "I can't even get spells right that everyone else can, much less make up my own!"

The orb was clever and glided slowly, but not slowly enough that the group of them ever had to stop walking to account for it. It chose routes that were clear enough that the students could easily maneuver through, but the way it chose was quicker than any of them would have likely chosen, utilizing several hidden doors and once hovering above a spot until Neville pulled up a trap door which the orb promptly sank through.

After a very small amount of time, the students found themselves in what was to be their new dormitory. The orb bobbed once and then went whizzing back the way they had come. The room they had been brought to was semi-circular, with a series of doors and empty bookshelves wrapping around the curved walls. Like the rest of the castle, the area was richly furnished. In the middle of the flat wall, was an incredibly large fireplace, which had already been lit, likely by one of the castle's dozens of house elves in anticipation of their arrival. They had come in a hidden door just behind one of the incredibly large sides of the fireplace; when standing in the middle of the room, looking at it, the door was completely invisible. In the middle of the curved wall, was a long hallway which Hermione figured led to the library. Spread throughout the room were various plush chairs and sofas, ringed with tables and desks. In one corner was a modest dining table with twelve chairs.

Upon opening the doors each revealed a small table accompanied by a chair, a set of bare bookshelves, a dresser, a trunk, and a plush bed with curtains about it. A bathroom connected every pair of bedrooms, with their own, mixed toiletries. Unlike the rest of the castle which were decorated according to their houses, these were decorated each in a different color so that if all the doors were open, an onlooker could turn and see a rainbow.

Hermione chose the pretty teal room, stretching out on the bed with her eyes closed. She'd seen Neville walking towards a rich red room on across the common, not straying from his Gryffindor pride, and several of the other students did the same. She peered through her bathroom to see who had chosen the green room beside her and sure enough, Draco Malfoy was there, cinching his scarf around a bedpost.

Hermione's initial reaction was to grumble, but before she did, sulking back to her room, she remembered that lost look on his face when he'd gazed out at those awful sculptures the day before and confusion replaced her annoyance. Perhaps he wasn't the most amiable person at the school, but he wasn't the ice prince she'd grown up with either. In fact, she was certain she hated both Mr. Sullivan and Ron more than him at the moment.

And, it wasn't as though he was _un_attractive.

She lay back on her bed and thought about what she would study, first, once they started, and daydreamed of various subjects. She lay there for quite awhile, lost in thought until Neville burst into her room, asking, "Want to go see who's all here rebuilding?"

Hermione considered and toyed with the idea of saying 'no,' mostly to avoid seeing Ron, but she had little else to do and so followed her friend out of their chambers. She wondered briefly if the doors had locks on them and resolved to check once she returned. If she could wake up at her own pace in these chambers, they would be just about perfect.

As Neville and Hermione made their way through the castle, Hermione became aware of just how little work had been actually done in their absence. There was still mountains of rubble if ever you strayed from the main corridors of the castle and various shortcuts and entire wings of the castle were virtually inaccessible. However, the crumbling seemed eerie, almost, not like that which they'd seen in the battle, but it took a long while for her to figure out why. The pair had almost reached the front doors of the castle when Hermione burst out, "There's no gore!"

"No what?" asked Neville.

"No gore," repeated Hermione. "The castle's still falling down around us from the battle, but they've cleaned up every aspect of the battle they could besides that. No blood, no bodies."

Neville looked confused and more than a little grossed out, "Why are we thinking of blood and bodies, exactly?"

"I was just thinking," blushed Hermione, "If there's all this rubble about, what have these people been doing all summer? And then it hit me, they've been cleaning up, but it wasn't the actual castle. They were making it fit for children before they were making it fit to walk through."

Neville looked impressed, "I never thought of that."

Just then, Professor Sprout rounded a corner and, upon seeing the pair of them, headed directly for them. When she got within earshot of them, she called out, "You two, have you learned how to repair the castle yet? We need a group to go over to Ravenclaw tower to make it livable by the time the students get here."

Hermione's memory stumbled forth an image of a tower toppling during the battle and hoped that it hadn't been Ravenclaw. "No," Neville answered for the pair of them, "We haven't."

"Well then scurry over to that group over there and learn how!" responded the Professor, shooing them in the direction of a motley crew of wizards and witches around the Headmistress and Professor Slughorn. As they walked over to the group, they could see that Professor Slughorn was soaked in sweat, though it wasn't particularly warm outside. He patted at his forehead with a handkerchief though that, too, was visibly sodden. It returned to his pocket with a squelch.

"So," continued the Headmistress, nodding in their direction and looking off to the side where Hermione turned to see Malfoy - was he following them? - approaching the group as well, "after realizing simple charms and spells like _reparo _and its many modifiers would not work, we mended that with the living charm _episkey_, the ward spell often referred to as the Patronus spell, and a few other little latin locks that seem to mend our castle to perfection. Since the mishaps I mentioned in the first week of repairs, we've had minimal injuries and no problems with the stone trying to mend itself to those assisting in the effort. The spell we've come up with is _patrisko a reponcere_. Repeat after me, if you could. _Pa-tris-ko_." She waited for them to respond, having spent dozens of years in a classroom. However, the group around looked various emotions from stressed to bemused to confused at being taught in this manner. However, they mumbled the words after she did. "_ah reh-pon-cehr_." Louder, this time, the group repeated after her. "And then all together. _P__atrisko a reponcere_."

Filled with conviction, the group repeated the spell after her and the ground around them thrummed, causing them to stumble. Hermione fell to the left and felt a pair of strong, surprised hands grab at her from either side. Both Malfoy and Neville had made efforts to catch her. She looked confusedly at the pair of them before asking the Headmistress, "What was that?"

"That was the magic Miss Granger," replied professor Slughorn excitedly. "Now, you'll just need to learn to wield it!"

Professor McGonagall nodded and said, "Precisely, too successfully apply the spell you must take your wand and draw an infinity symbol in the air, evenly throughout the first word of the spell, _patrisko_. If you finish too soon, the spell will not work, if you finish too late it will not be very strong at all. Start from the center of the symbol and go to the right top of the symbol first. Then on the word _a_ pull back your wand abruptly, as if you were pulling back the string of a bow. Then, on the first syllable of the last word, _reponcere_, thrust your want forward releasing the spell. This will have to be done correctly or the spell will not repair anything."_  
_

"This being said," Professor Slughorn added, "This spell takes an awful lot of energy to repair more than a few grains of rubble at a time and I suggest you pace yourselves and practice repairing small before repairing large things. And when I say small, I mean very small. You will want to direct your spell at the piece of rubble you are trying to add to the castle rather than the place you would like it to go so as to not overstretch the spell right away."

"That's very true," Professor McGonagall agreed, "Now, I want you lot," she gestured to the right half of the group, "to head around the outside of the castle where you will meet a group of young adults including Mr. Sullivan who are repairing an entrance I would like you three," she gestured at a few people in the middle, including Draco Malfoy, "to go to the Great Hall where Mr. Filch has piles of dust to place about the entry way. And I want the rest of you to head up to Ravenclaw tower to attempt at repairing as much as you can of it." Hermione and Neville were in the last group with a small, elderly witch with a lazy right eye, a pair of tall, tanned men who looked to be about Percy's age and a scruffy but similar-looking man a few years younger than them, and a girl with short, curly, corn silk hair who looked far too young to be out of school.

As they made their way up to the tower, Hermione and Neville leading the way, they became acutely aware of loud murmuring behind them. Hermione whirled around and asked, "Is there something you'd like to say?"

The young girl looked as shocked, almost scared that Hermione had spoken and after a moment said, "I'm your biggest fan!"


End file.
